


Sun, Moon and Stars

by panslabyrinths



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Descriptions of Blood, F/M, Semi-established relationship, Unnamed OC - Freeform, blind! oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panslabyrinths/pseuds/panslabyrinths
Summary: She was his sun, moon and stars. So, why was this happening to her?
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 20





	Sun, Moon and Stars

This was never meant to happen. At least, not to her.

Lying in a pool of her own blood, her own hands not knowing where to grasp. Crimson finger tips move back and forth from the deep wound on her abdomen, then move to the chest plate of his beskar, then back over to Cara’s hands as they try to help. 

Din finds himself useless, only being able to fall to his knees at her side when he finally settles down after the fight. She had been coughing and spluttering on her blood with Cara but calling his name like a mantra of hope. He felt guilty for ignoring her, her own heart giving a painful ache every time he heard her call for him. But he was trying to protect her, something he had failed to do and he would not let himself fail her twice. 

He can only pull her head onto his lap, his own hands shaking along with hers. Cara was trying her best, speaking to both him and her as she fumbles with the bandages and bacta. Her words sound far away to Din, and he can only really focus on the woman on his lap. The woman he had _failed_.

It was never supposed to be like this, with her pale and bleeding out on the dirt floor. It was always supposed to be him, he was always the one hurt - and she would always be the more level headed. She was always good at pretending to be calm when he was hurt, and Din would always admire her from behind his helmet when she would tend to him. It was supposed to be _him_ , he was always the one who went out on jobs gone bad.

But this wasn’t his fight to start or finish, she had told him that plenty of times. She had explained her own siblings disdain for her early on in their companionship. A disdain so strong, that instead of hiring a bounty hunter to kill her, they had tried to just do it themselves.

A cough tears through her, and Cara hisses at her - telling her to _please be still_ \- and Din becomes cold with fear when he sees the blood pool even more around Cara’s hands with each cough.

He hears his name, and he manages to tilt his helmet up to look at Cara. She’s sweating, her hair sticking to her face with splotches of blood. 

“I need her to calm down.”

He hasn’t spoken a word, he realizes. Despite the woman on his lap calling for him earlier, he hadn’t said a word to her or Cara.

“ _Cyar’ika_.”

He’s scared she can pick up the tremble in his voice, the fear and apprehension seeping through his lips unwanted. Din wants to be able to put on a brave facade for her, act as if he’s okay even though she isn't. He hates the feeling of fear and failure mounted on his shoulders, weighing him down. He’s scared and he doesn’t want to be.

She was the only one, despite her inability to see, that he felt actually saw past the beskar. She saw past the walls he had built around his heart, muted by the creed he had taken years and years ago. She was one of the few, if not the only one, to never question the beskar or him. 

“You,” she takes a deep, gulping breath and a small smile pulls at the corner of her lips for the briefest moment before it's replaced with another of pain, “Never call me that.”

He inhales as softly as he can, his chest shaking. Din moves, lifting his hand to brush her hair away from her face. She closes her eyes at the touch, and he feels himself panic for a brief moment because the fleeting thought of her never opening them again enters his mind. He’s been around her for so long now, even before the kid, that he doesn’t know a life without her there. He doesn’t _want_ to know a life without her there.

“Din,” he snaps back to meet her eyes, and she’s moving her hand to reach for him, “Din, I’m scared.”

Whatever resolve he thought he had vanishes at her words, and he hastily grabs the hand that had sought him. He can’t bring himself to speak, the overwhelming burn in his throat and in the back of his eyes is enough to keep him silent. So, Din does the only thing he feels like he can. He grabs her hand, holding onto it as tightly as he can so as to not hurt her. He leans forward, despite the position being uncomfortable, to briefly lean his helmet against her forehead. 

“I don’t want to die,” she breathes quietly.

“You won’t.”

His response is immediate, and harsher than he intended it to be. Though, he softens when he sees the tears pooling in her eyes. Her gaze is upwards and towards him, almost meeting the T visor of his helmet, and he knows she’s looking at the light reflecting off of his beskar. 

“You won’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “The kid, he needs you.”

There’s a long pause after what he says, and through his peripherals Din can see Cara glance at him for the briefest moment.

“We both do,” Din manages to say, the words leaving him slowly as he wills himself to try and not sound so afraid.

She gulps again, heavy and loud as she tries to inhale and exhale. He’s glad the grip on his hand hasn’t faltered, if anything it’s growing stronger as the time passes. Din looks away from her, glancing at Cara as the other woman sighs out, her hands now resting on her thighs. 

“I did the best I could,” Cara speaks softly, and Din moves to look at his companion’s abdomen, now patched and covered with semi-bloody gauze and a bacta patch. 

“Thank you,” he nods at Cara, who only gives him a stiff nod in response as she moves to leave the two be for a moment. Din carefully moves his legs out from under himself, stretching them so the woman lies between his legs. Her breathing is much more relax, and although she looks much more comfortable Din is still worried at how pale she looks from the blood loss.

“I’m sorry,” her voice is getting weaker, he notes. But more surprising than that, he’s shocked she’s apologizing at all. _He_ had failed _her_ , and here she lied - in a pool of her own blood - apologizing to him. His silence prompts her to continue, and she’s still swallowing thickly in between her words, “I wish I was as strong as you.”

She truly was an oddity to him. So fragile yet capable, soft yet strong, both the calm and the storm. She was his sun, moon and stars. Always there but seemingly unattainable. 

He didn’t deserve her.

“I’m the one who failed,” Din’s voice is soft, almost pleading, as it meets her ears. He doesn’t understand, and he wishes he could be upset with her for thinking something so stupid. He failed her, he wasn’t worth the apology that left her lips, and if she knew what was good for her she would leave his company if she lived through this ( _ **when** she lives through this_, he wills himself to think). But he knows her, better than anyone would be able to guess. He knew that she would never leave him, nor the child. She was too good, and Din was too selfish. Because _he_ would never leave _her_.

She whispers a no, her eyes slowly slipping close, “You protected me, that is enough.”

The exhaustion begins to catch up to them both, and Din pulls her closer as she slouches more into him. He clenches his jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other as the persistent burn in his throat actually makes him want to cry out to her.

“Thank you.”


End file.
